


A dream

by writingtalking



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Death, Drinking, Hurt/Comfort, Poetry, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29201763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingtalking/pseuds/writingtalking
Summary: After Germany experienced the death of his first human lover, Prussia tries to bring comfort to him with a poem.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	A dream

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the middle of the twenties and is inspired by and named after the poem by Johann Gottfried Herder. It includes mildly descriptive mentions of a disease and some philosophising about human mortality, so beware.

He just wanted to get a book. Instead, he found his younger brother, leaning forward in one of the old reading chairs. His face lay in one of his hands, half-hidden behind the fingers. For a short second Gilbert thought about leaving quietly, pretending he never entered the room, but he could tell something was wrong. Ludwig's posture, the half-empty glass of whiskey on the small table, his tousled, oily hair whispering misery to him through the dimly lit library. Damn it, their sister was still sleeping after yet another long night of Charleston and swing music, meaning he had no other choice but to confront his brother himself. He closed the door quietly and made his way over, deciding it was best not to be too pressing about it in the beginning.

“Good morning. Did you eat breakfast yet? There's some coffee left in the kitchen, better grab it before Annika wakes up.”

Ludwig didn't answer. In fact, he didn't react in any way. The familiar feeling of anxiety made itself comfortable in Gilbert's chest. He tried to push it away with little success and sat down on the other chair, eyeing the whiskey glass.

“You know, just because our sister is living a bit wildly right now doesn't mean you have to as well. Especially so early.”

Still, no reply. The anxiety had won the fight. Gilbert reached for the glass and downed the rest of the golden liquid, a weak attempt at calming himself down.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

A few seconds, then finally, a reaction. Ludwig's other hand came to his face, hiding it completely now. He looked absolutely _miserable_. Gilbert's heart was beating uncomfortably fast.

“What's wrong?”

The question was quiet, devoid of all the faked cheerfulness of its predecessors. He was raking his brain for possible explanations now, trying to remember all the things Ludwig had told him lately. _Oh_. Something came up. He had mentioned that the girl he was seeing, a dancer at the _Wintergarten,_ had gotten sick. That must have been two weeks ago already.

“Is something wrong with Lana? You mentioned she caught a cold a while ago.”

Ludwig said something, but it was unintelligible through his hands.

“What?” “ _She's dead_.”

The words came out in a hiss, full of angered grief. Gilbert sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. Shit. What should he say now?

“I'm sorry.”

Ludwig stared blankly at the table, a mixture of emotions burning in his gaze.

“Do you...do you want to talk about it?”

Silence stretched out between them. After what must have been at least a minute, Gilbert contemplated waking Annika up so she would do something. He was on the verge of leaving his seat when Ludwig did speak up, his voice quiet and unnervingly blank.

“It wasn't a cold. It was smallpox.”

The first thing that came to Gilbert's mind was the smell. Oh yes, he had encountered that damned disease with it's hellishly sweet, pungent smell many times before. Pictures of children appeared before his inner eye, their bodies littered with the pustules, their small faces horribly disfigured.

“I really- I really thought it was a cold. But then I saw the papules...oh god, she looked so bad by the end. Her whole body- her skin, it looked so awful. Her eyes and her mouth...”

His cornflower eyes bore into the table, rosy skin covered in pale pustules replacing the dark wood. Gilbert didn't know what to say. Even though Ludwig was still young for a nation and not very involved in the science of medicine, he must have seen _someone_ with the disease before. After the war and the recent pandemic he didn't think a person dying from smallpox would unsettle him _that_ much. But maybe it wasn't the disease that did... He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Ludwig...I'm really sorry that she died. Especially like that. But you know...”

 _You know humans are fragile like that_.

“I know. _I know_.”

The words came through clenched teeth. He seemed angry, likely at himself. He was probably thinking that he should have known better.

“Was she...was she the first one?”

Ludwig nodded slightly, the motion so small that for a moment, Gilbert wasn't sure if he had just imagined it.

“I see...”

Silence came over them once more. Ludwig's frustration seemed to fade, slowly replaced by a look of helplessness.

“I was devastated too when my first lover died. And the second. And the third as well. So please believe me when I tell you that I can imagine how you are feeling right now.”

Ludwig looked at him more clearly now. His eyes had a pleading undertone to them, silently asking for help. It reminded Gilbert of the years he had been a child, years that seemed so long ago now, even though it hadn't been much time at all.

“How did you learn to deal with it?”

He shrugged slightly, looking his brother straight in the eyes. “You just...come to accept it. It's painful in the beginning, but after a while you'll learn that it is something that can't be changed, no matter how much you want it to.”

Ludwig didn't look very comforted by that. If anything, he looked a bit scared.

“That sounds awful.” “I guess it is.”

“...do you think they are sad about it? Scared?”

So he had finally reached the point in his very long life where he started questioning these things. All of their kind did, sooner or later. Gilbert had stopped thinking about it a long while ago.

“Some of them are. But some accept it very early. Are at peace with it. I think that's the best thing for them.”

Ludwig frowned, seemingly stunned by that idea.

“Wait, I think your sister once read a poem to me that...wait.”

He stood up and browsed the shelves for the book. It took a while, but Ludwig just sat there watching him. He seemed calmer now, but still mournful.

“Ah, here it is.” He sat back down and cleared his throat.

“ _A dream, a dream is our life here on earth. Like shadows on the surges we float and fade, and measure our sluggish steps by time and space; and are (and not aware of it) in the middle of eternity_.”

Silence, once again.

“A dream.”

His brother seemed deep in thought now. And he would be for a while, if he was anything like he had been back then. Gilbert closed the book and laid it on the table, a silent offer.

“Most of them don't want their loved ones fall into despair because of their death. Why don't you tell me a bit about her? I would love to hear some stories about your time together.”

There it was, finally. A tug on his brother's mouth, the shadow of a smile. He nodded.

“Yes, I would like you to know about her.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _The Wintergarten_ : One of Berlin’s most popular variety theatres at the time
> 
>  _The recent pandemic_ : The Spanish Flu that infected about a third of the world’s population from 1918-1920


End file.
